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Chapter Eleven

A yawn escaped Priest's lips as his disoriented eyes scanned the room, attempting to get familiar with his surroundings. A long night it had been. On his chest, wrapped in his arms, Britain lay sleeping peacefully. Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took. Priest silently cursed at the fact that he had lost track of time. He wasn't in his own bed, but Britain's instead. From their dinner, the two decided to have some more drinks and watch a movie with some popcorn. Within half an hour of the screening of the movie, Priest was fast asleep, leaving Britain to watch the movie alone.

Although she knew Priest would have wanted her to wake him so he could head home, she opted against it. It seemed like that was the only real sleep he had gotten in God knew how long. He was at a state of calmness, and Britain had gotten wrapped up in just admiring the way his face still managed to form a solid mean mug, all the way down to him sleeping with one hand up his shirt, resting slightly above his waistline. Britain found herself observing tiny details about him. She was close and took full advantage.

Still fully clothed from their outing at La Lealtá, Priest stretched slightly, trying not to wake Britain. He wasn't going to interrupt her sleep, so he decided to just stay.

His eyes gravitated to her. Britain was gorgeous to him. He secured her in his arms a little tighter and found his body and mind relieved of all the stress that had been weighing him down for a while.

He eventually ended up falling back asleep, this time in absolute comfort with Britain in his arms. It only took approximately two hours for the sunlight to peak through the blinds. This time around, Britain had gotten up before him.

Priest squirmed in the bed for a while, knowing he had to start his day, but dreading it. Once he mustered up the strength to get up, he was faced with the lens of a camera. The tempered glass was transparent and allowed Priest to see the shutter of the camera to go off. Quickly, his hand went up to his face, blocking any more possible shots.

"What you think you’re doing?" Priest grumbled out groggily.

It was evident that he wasn't pleased by the sight of a camera waking him, but instead of lashing out, he maintained his composure. Britain, who had already gotten cleaned up from the night before, shrugged her shoulders.

"You seemed at peace. See, look." She rose from her position on the bed where her knees were sinking into the plush mattress and sat next to him, provoking Priest to immediately put an arm around her waist as they both viewed the photos she had taken.

The photos were crystal clear and focused perfectly on Priest. Britain took birds eye view shots of him sound asleep. Priest couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his mean mug that was permanent on his face as he slept.

"You're good at this," Priest praised her as he now held the professional camera in his hands, clicking through different photos. Britain's shots varied. There were a few shots of the scenery she enjoyed while out and about in New York Then there were natural and candid portrait shots taken of others for potential “Humans of New York” stories.

Since meeting Priest, she hadn't been out roaming the streets for her next weekly story. Her Times editor reached out to her, questioning why she didn’t have at least three stories in by now, but Britain really had no excuse. She couldn't tell him she had been enjoying the company of a man whose story was just as hard for her to hear as it was for him to tell.

"Thank you." Britain smiled. "It's a hobby of mine," she explained with a shrug.

Priest handed the camera over to her so he could get up. Now seated on the edge of the bed, he reached down to put on his sneakers.

"My bad for crashing last night. I didn't mean to overstay my welcome," he apologized.

"Don't apologize. You were tired— really tired. Do you ever sleep at all?" Britain turned the camera off while asking him. She lounged on her back in the bed while waiting for a response. With his back facing her, he shrugged.

"I sleep, but sleep isn't sleep if it isn't good sleep."

"Agreed," Britain replied and nodded.

Standing up to his full height, Priest glanced over his shoulder at Britain who hadn't taken her eyes off him once. "Last night, I enjoyed myself. Thank you for letting me take you out," he expressed his gratitude.

A light smile flashed on her face as her eyes glazed in contentment. "I enjoyed myself too."

"Walk me out?" He lifted a brow.

Britain nodded, getting out of the bed. She slipped into her slippers and made her way around the bed. She nestled her hand into Priest's so she could walk him out as requested. Of course, hand in hand didn't suffice for him, so he transitioned to having her walk in front of him while his arms wrapped around her waist.

Once they got to the door, Britain turned on her heels to face him. Her arms opened, engulfing him in an embrace. Her head laid lightly on his chest, causing Priest's steady and strong heartbeat to wave into her ears. Priest wrapped her in his muscular arms, slightly swaying side to side with her.

"I'll see you, okay?" He guided her head up to look up at him.

Britain nodded. "Yeah," she then confirmed.

He caressed her face gently for a moment before cutting into their goodbye by opening the door. They shared one more goodbye before Priest made his way to his vehicle to set out for his penthouse.

Upon arrival, he made his way straight up, passing through security with ease.

"Y’all niggas don't have y'all own homes? It's like nine in the morning." Priest shook his head at the sight of J'Ru and Kaymen seated in his kitchen with hefty plates of breakfast Talia had prepared.

"We should be asking you that. What you tiptoeing in for, nigga?" Kaymen smirked, playfully teasing Priest. Priest laughed a bit since J'Ru and Kaymen both had suspicious looks on their faces.

"Ya mother ever told you not to question a man in his own home?" Priest bypassed them and headed straight into his bedroom so he could clean himself up.

In the distance, he could hear both Kaymen and J'Ru exclaiming behind him, celebrating the fact that he may have gotten some pussy the night before, which had him dragging himself into his penthouse so early in the morning. Priest shook his head, not paying his friends any mind. They liked to troll when they weren't so focused on keeping shit intact. Clearly, they were both oblivious to Priest’s actual personal dealings, and he wasn't going to share too much with them. What he had with Britain was exactly that: what he had with Britain. The guys could clown and poke all they wanted, but Priest wasn't going to say a word.

Once he was finished, Priest changed into some gym shorts and busted open a fresh pack of white tees. Upon re-entering his kitchen, he saw Talia had already plated his breakfast and was serving it to him with a mug of coffee. Priest sat alongside his two friends, praying over his meal and theirs since he knew they were too negligent to do it themselves.

"I got them permits for you. We good to have the event at St. Nicholas," Kaymen assured Priest with a nod of his head.

Priest reached out and slapped hands with Kaymen. "Good looks."

Each year for the beginning of the school year, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, Priest did what he could to ensure families in Harlem would have what they needed, even if they didn't have things in order financially. Usually, things would go smoothly, and all Priest had to do was plan and deliver, but with his trial being a burden on his public image, the State of New York was trying to do everything in their power to tie him down, even if it meant depriving hundreds of families of the blessings Priest was trying to give out.

Kaymen decided to take on the task of making sure everything was official so no blue collar, white-washed-ass cop could roll up and try to shut shit down if they didn't have the right paperwork. Priest took the backseat since he knew if his name popped up on those permit registry papers, they would ultimately get denied.

Now that everything was smoothed over, Priest and the guys were suiting up to give out turkeys and a few other things for the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday to ensure the families had a fulfilling meal, just as they would. Everything was set to happen by the end of the week, and Priest was more than prepared.

"Nothing too big or too small," Kaymen shrugged, alluding to the fact that he was willing to do whatever it took.

"You got the streets talking, man." J'Ru smirked over at Priest who was overindulging in his breakfast.

Priest shrugged. This was nothing new. "Don't I always?"

Since the news had released the fact that Priest may have had ties to the murder of Tony and the five on-duty officers assigned to watch the safe house Tony was in, Priest had the streets at a standstill. He was dangerous to fuck with, and he was making that very clear. There was no actual evidence to tie Priest to it, but he was sure the prosecuting team was going to dangle it over his head.

"Shit different now, P. You on the news every hour of the day," J'Ru reminded him. Priest tried hard not to think about the media tarnishing his name and dragging him through filth. Although Priest never cared how others viewed him, he didn't like the fact that the constant media attention was causing people to view him as a monster.

I’m not that at all.

Priest was tired of being hounded about the same situation. If the media wanted a reaction, they could have one.

"You don't think I know that? I been moving differently, and you see that. Just chill out." Priest remained at bay, not letting his constant issues get the best of him. Priest had too much faith in God to ever think about buckling under pressure over some unwanted attention. Shit was still going to run exactly how it was before: smoothly.

"In other issues," Kaymen announced. "Your little cousin out here making a fool out of you, P," he directed toward Priest.

Priest screwed his face up. "A fool out of me? Fuck no!" He shook his head, denying the fact that his blood would find it acceptable to do some embarrassing shit in public that Priest could be penalized for later.

Seventeen-year-old Mirsad Landris was Priest's younger second cousin who was mothered by his cousin Nia. The young boy was always getting into something different when it came to the streets simply because he could never fucking listen. He was hardheaded like Priest, which was why Priest kept him so close. He wanted Mirsad to avoid all the adversities he had to face in his own life, but Mirsad seemed to let Priest's advice and lessons go through one ear and out the other. He'd recently dropped out of school, claiming school simply wasn't for him.

Priest didn't doubt that college wasn't for everyone. However, he was a firm believer that everyone should have the basic education acquired through a high school diploma. That should’ve been the least anyone strived for in Priest’s eyes! Mirsad, however, rebelled and wanted to do his own thing. He saw Priest with the fancy cars, iced out jewelry, and latest fashions, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to attain that status. He wasn't oblivious to the tricks and schemes Priest pulled to get to where he was now, but Mirsad was willing to put in the work in the streets if the lifestyle he dreamed of would be reimbursement.

Nia was on her last straw when it came to Mirsad. She had no idea what to do with the boy. The week before, she had put him out for the night because apparently, he thought he was man enough to speak to her in any kind of manner, even going as far as calling her out of her name. What was intended to be Mirsad being put out for just a moment so he could learn his lesson had backfired on Nia because Mirsad took it a step further and disappeared. While Nia was working in the leasing office of the building, Mirsad packed up his things, and only God knew where he was now residing.

As much as Nia didn't want to admit it, she had no urgency to bring Mirsad back home. She cared about him and still loved him wholeheartedly, but her son was far too rebellious to ever listen to her.

"I caught him out on the block busting plays." Kaymen let out some laughter. "That little nigga a corner boy to the corner boy."

When Kaymen caught sight of Mirsad, his immediate reaction was to get the young teen off the block. If Priest was family, so was everyone who came with him. Mirsad had been around the three men more than enough to be familiar with Kaymen and show him love. He didn't think Kaymen being one of Priest’s good friends called for him to rough him up like he was his father.

The look on Priest's face gave clear indication that he wasn't pleased. Mirsad was better than that. He didn't know why he insisted on having the street life instead of living the life Priest wanted to provide for him.

"What you say to him?" Priest asked with his jaws clenched in a mixture of anger and disappointment in Mirsad.

Kaymen shrugged. "Told him to get in the car so I could take him to you so you could deal with him. Little nigga started talking out the side of his neck like he big shit, so I handled him in front of everybody on that block," Kaymen retold the story exactly how it had taken place.

"Embarrassed his ass?" Priest chuckled, knowing Kaymen was always down for the cause of teaching the youngings a lesson for their hard heads and soft asses.

Kaymen nodded. "Made sure of it, and I emptied out his pockets. Little nigga had the audacity to be on one of our blocks, selling some weak-ass product from some other nigga."

"Wait, so he wasn't even serving shit for somebody that run for us?" J'Ru asked for clarification.

Kaymen shook his head. "The shit he had ain't hold no pressure. I couldn't help but laugh at his ass and then smack him upside the head for trying to hustle us."

"I'll handle his ignorant ass." Priest shook his head at the fact that he was going to have to pull up on his little cousin once more. "You know where he got his shit from?"

"His ass was losing his shit about me putting him in heavy shit for taking his work. I'm sure he'll tell you," Kaymen shrugged.

A laugh flowed out of J'Ru. "Y'all can't even cap. The little nigga got a lot of heart to be hustling on our shit with someone else's work."

Priest and Kaymen followed suit with their own laughs. "He don't got heart. He just comfortable and feel entitled. I'm gone get his ass right," Priest asserted once he eased his laughter.

Mirsad was really disrespecting him by pulling this little stunt. There was no way for Priest to actually know how long his little cousin was posted on his block serving some other nigga’s product. He didn't care how long it was. Whether it was a day or an hour, either way, the little nigga was fucking disrespectful.

Later that day, Priest had drifted far from home. He parked his vehicles on the corner of the block and darted his eyes between each nigga who frequented it. It had been a little over an hour, and so far, there were no signs of Mirsad. Priest was going to wait it out. If he knew his little cousin as well as he thought he did, he knew Mirsad would drag his ass back to the block, despite how whack Kaymen made him look. He always liked to redeem himself. Killing time, Priest had fallen into conversation with Britain through text.

Priest: How many questions flood your mind through the day? Priest asked Britain.

Her reply came in quick.

Britain: I don’t know. Do my questions bother you?

Priest chuckled at the fact that she absentmindedly replied with another question.

Priest: Here you go with another question.

Britain: I don’t notice when I do it, I swear! She decorated the text with a few laughing face emojis before following up with another text. But are you gonna answer the question?

Priest: Ask me again at dinner tonight. I’ll have an answer for you then. He smoothly extended an invitation to her for another date.

She always had a question she wanted him to answer. Honestly, Priest truly didn't mind. Her questions didn't make him feel like he was being interrogated. They actually made it easier for him to open up to her. With every question she asked, their conversation improved, and that was therapeutic for Priest.

Sitting his phone down on his lap after sending his last text to Britain, Priest focused his attention back up the block, and sure enough, Mirsad had shown up.

His attire caused Priest to shake his head in disapproval. Mirsad's demeanor screamed inexperience. Priest was a firm believer that the way you carried yourself was how people perceived and treated you. Right now, Priest wanted nothing to do with Mirsad, but he knew better than to let his little cousin fall neck deep in the game.

The way Mirsad carried himself and operated was cringeworthy. The young boy was sloppy, arrogant, and loud, and he barely had shit. Getting out the car, Priest made sure he had his strap secured in the waist band of his jeans. Upon his sudden arrival, many of the corner boys straightened up and stood at attention. Mirsad was too busy flapping his fucking gums to even realize his big cousin was striding over to him looking like he could kill him.

Priest roughly turned Mirsad around, jolting him off his feet and slamming him against the exterior brick wall of the building. "What the fuck did I tell you?!" Priest spewed at Mirsad with a venomous look, seething and shooting daggers from his already dark eyes.

"Fuck is you talking about?!" Mirsad shouted at Priest in a startled panic. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach at the sight of Priest before him.

"I fucking told you, Mirsad. Stay the fuck from round here," Priest gritted out with his jaws clenched in anger.

"You ain't my fucking pops. Get the fuck outta my face," Mirsad jeered in response to Priest. Priest tightened the grip he had on Mirsad, this time inching closer to him.

"You right. I ain't your fucking pops, and I don't wanna be," Priest clarified. "However, you on my fucking block with some weak-ass product making a fool out of me. Don't test me, Mirsad. I'll smoke your ass and help Nia pay for the funeral," Priest threatened with a more than promising tone. He let Mirsad fall from the grip of his calloused hands with a grimace etched out on his face. Mirsad said nothing in return. Instead, he leered right into Priest’s eyes.

"Get the fuck off my block," Priest ordered. "If I find out you ain't found your way home by the end of the night, you won't be an issue for me or Nia anymore. Understood?"

Mirsad said nothing. Although Priest often gave silence as a response to certain things, he hated it being done to him. Mirsad glanced away, no longer finding Priest worthy of the respect of eye contact. Priest gripped Mirsad's jaw, jerking his head in his direction and demanding eye contact. His jet-black piece of steel was now gripped in his other hand as he pressed the barrel of the gun underneath Mirsad's chin, hiking his head up.

"Understood?" Priest gritted out with much more emphasis.

Mirsad clenched his jaw, showcasing his anger. "Understood," he responded.

Satisfied with his little cousin’s response, Priest secured his weapon back into his waist band. The multiple niggas who decorated the block all acted as if they hadn't witnessed the ordeal that had just unfolded between Priest and Mirsad.

"Check this out. If any of y'all catch him 'round here again, smoke his ass," Priest gave direct orders, causing the guys on the block to all nod their heads in understanding of the new set rule. Priest needed Mirsad to know that he was gambling with his life by trying his older cousin. If this didn't keep Mirsad out of the streets, Priest was sure getting popped in the ass with a hot one would.

Getting into his black-on-black Bentley Bentayga, Priest pulled off, leaving his untouchable presence still on the block. He didn't have to wait it out to see if Mirsad was actually heading home. He was confident in the fact that he was.